The Duke's Angel
by PriceX3Jayme
Summary: Victorian era, 1861! The lovely Clarissa Morgenstern doesn't want to marry. The reluctant and stubborn Jonathon is engaged to the beautiul Coraline Penhallow. But when an evil stirs among the kingdom's villages...More inside!
1. Chapter 1

_**It's 1861 in Idris; Nephilim is experiencing hard times. The Shadowhunters are picking sides, dividing themselves amongst two separate countries. It's up to stubborn and arrogant Grand Prince Jonathon Christopher Morgenstern, son of the great Archduke of Alicante, to join the two together again...by betrothal? Can he deal? Meanwhile the humble and modest Lady Clarissa must choose a husband in the midst of tolerating her constantly disappearing father, her art, Shadowhunter training, and babysitting the notorious Jonathon Christopher.**_

_**But when something evil stirs among the townspeople, Clarissa and Jonathon are forced to make a decision, and fast...**_

**Hey, guys! I just had the most excruciating idea! I LOVE the Renaissance/Victorian era, right? So, why not make a Fanfic about it? I really hope you enjoy this chapter. I REALLY loved writing this, so the second chapter's on its way! :D Please leave comments (Note: Coraline Penhallow=Aline. You'll find every one else easy to distinguish, I hope)**

_._

_Princess Clarissa Fairchild: Daughter of the Duke and Duchess Fairchild;_

_Westernmost Idris; Palatia Covenant;_

_Mid-September 1861._

_._

"Lady Princess, Princess!"

"Ma'am, she's not't the stabl's. The kitch'n maids says they'nt see'r neith'r."

The short, stout old woman placed both hands on her hips. "Well, check the librar-eh, the suites! Ramp'g the whole blood-eh castle with the King's Army if ye have to!" The young boy nodded his head and, without a word, was off. The princess' senior handmaid shook her head. "I'd'v' a pence ev'ry time this g'rl disapp'rs without a word, rais'n' m'blood high. She'll be th' death of me!" she mumbled, picking up her skirts and dashing for the gardens . . .

. . . Meanwhile, up on the roof, Princess Clarissa hid sketching Idris's landscapes with her new pad and set of stencils on her lap. On an out-of-the-country business trip, her father, a duke of Western Idris, had sent over the package this morning with a note:

_My dear angel, Clarissa- A key to unlock all of your questions. I will return shortly; tell your mother she and you are thought __of -All my love, your father._

There, in the bottom right-hand corner, was his signature-.-and his formal title, always his formal title. It is requested of him. Clarissa does not blame his title, just the responsibilites his title weighs onto him. There would always be a breaching at an Institute somewhere, anywhere, in the world that he would have to come and investigate. The attack at the London Institute might be his biggest one yet; it is one that Clarissa might not be able to persuade her father to come back early from this time.

Even if tomorrow _was _her 16th birthday.

Finally, only twenty-four hours to womanhood. A day until she would be bequeathed strong enough, old enough, experienced enough, to join her mother and father in Shadowhunting. A day until they officially pronounce her a protector from evil, an Archangel's warrior and faithful servant. When her endless training finally ends.

A day until she has to find a husband.

Clarissa released everything onto her pad, allowing her hands to dance across the page and at the same time looking at the scenery before her, shading the parts where there were shadows and blending the pencil lines where there were none in the scene. Nearly an hour passed before she decided her drawing was done, and she smiled at it with satisfaction when it came out better than the fore-day's attempt.

"Clarissa!" her handmaid's voice carried out through the gardens.

Clarissa's head shot up-.-none so gracefully-.-at the sound of her guardian. With forced calmness, she scanned the fields, trying to determine whether her favorite hiding place could hold for another hour or so. Her hopes were crushed when her huntress appeared from behind the heavily-shrubbed land, shaking leaves out of her hair and dress. Clarissa realized with horror that her maid could easily see her secret spot as much as she her in the garden. As sure she is of the fact that her maid, Hester, thought of her as a second child, it didn't stop her from telling the duchess Clarissa's naughts for a pence or two.

Just then, Hester glanced up from her clean skirt at the balcony to the princess' room, her eyes moving sideways until they met Clarissa's.

Clarissa froze as she steadily met Hester's gaze, remaining still as prey would do under a predator's watchful eye. She prayed Hester had just caught a glint of a light, or a slight move of her skirts, and would move on once assured it was of no importance. Suddenly, as if realization hit her square in the face, Hester darted toward the doors. Toward Clarissa's room.

That's when reality came crashing back down on her fantasy.

The princess jumped up from her sitting spot, losing her balance for a moment in the process, gathered her art supplies and ran for her balcony. On the way, her foot caught on a protrusion and she plummeted to the ground, losing all her materials in the fall. Instead of picking them all up again, she pushed what was within her reach onto the floor of her balcony and, with all thoughts directed on what she had learned during practice, leaped after them. As she landed, none to her surprise, her doorknob rattled forcefully, Hester shouting into the room at her. Clarissa never did underestimate her handmaid; stress could trigger an inner Shadowhunter. Without a loss in beat, Clarissa kicked the scattered remains of her father's birthday present under her bed and practically dived for the duchess' comb on her dresser. The door flew open just as she threw herself against the bannister, nearly hurtling herself off the side.

Hester waved her senior servants' key as she spoke. "Ha! Lady Clarissa, youl' be in so much tr'bl' wit' your moth'r, now, what makes ye think, ye can just hang around 'r roofs-"

Hester's eyes widened at the sight of Clarissa brushing her red curls as she watched over the gardens in a daze. Hoping to catch a stray item in the room's tidiness, Hester scoured it critically. When none was found, she shot the princess a glare. "I saw's ye, princess, ye can't fool m'."

Clarissa stopped brushing her hair for a moment, and turned her head around to look at Hester with a concerned expression. "What do you mean?"

Hester sprinted closer toward her. "There! Th' roof! I saw's ye on the roof!" She looked as if she might turn purple with frustration.

Clarissa stopped brushing her hair altogether and laid the back of her hand on Hester's fore-head. "Shall I send for the town's doctor, my dear Hester? You're a slight warm."

"Screw it!" -Clarissa withdrew her hand as if she just laid it upon a burning white-hot oven- "I saw's someth'n', and if ye don' mind me, princess, I'ma tell yer moth'r about't'." Hester whipped around and dashed for the door.

Clarissa had to think of something quick. "I'll have you gone!" she blurted. To her satisfaction, it worked. Her handmaid stopped at the threshold and looked over her shoulder. "The thing, what ever you saw, on the roof was not I. You've no proof on what it might have been." And, for the grand finale . . . "I'll just tell my _mother_ what you say is not fair. I'll demand a new maid." She shot Hester a winning smile.

For a second, Clarissa begun to think Hester might explode. Her face first turned red, then purple, then blue, when her face gradually turned to normal. She watched as her handmaid took several deep breaths, then, with all the composition she could muster, face her lady.

"I'll not say a word. Now, come. 'Tis time for yer dress-fittin'. Your dress's' arriv'd."

* * *

_Grand Prince Jonathon Christopher Morgenstern: Son of Archduke and Grand Duchess Morgenstern;_

_Alicante, Idris (Easternmost); Palatia Gard;_

_*Per vicis (Same time)._

_._

"The Princess Coraline Penhallow."

Jace smirked as he ran Ithabel through the Eidolon demon. With a look of disgust on his face, he pulled the blade, glowing with renewed life, out. The hideous demon shrieked and dropped like dead weight to the ground, folding in on itself until it was gone. Watching the place the demon died as if it might resurrect, Jace removed his gloves and turned to face his trainer. He pitched Ithabel at him like a javelin, and watched him snatch up the blade mid-air in its action, just as he expected. Jace, regardless of his amazement, shot his trainer a glare.

"What of her?"

"It has a nice ring to it, don't you comply?" Alexander-Alec-presses, twirling Ithabel with his fingers. "Her title, I mean."

Jace shrugged. "Her name has no significance to me as much as my own title does. The title beguiles me as much as she."

"Oh, hush, now, Jonathon. You've not acquainted. Do not inject such prejudice when you haven't even begun to know her," Alexander said, packing all of the training weapons into a duffel bag. "Considering she's your bequeathed, I suggest you familiarize yourself around her."

"She is not my bequeathed; she is my responsibility," Jace said, ripping a blade from where it punctured the tree. They were in the royal gardens, where Alec and he had thought was isolated and solitary enough to be able to hold a training session. Jace knew that every staff member, every servant, at the mansion was out their minds looking for the Grand Prince of Alicante for his dress-fitting for to-night's dinner. But this was exactly what he needed. A break from all his responsibilities. He had attempted to go alone, but Alec, his trainer and faithful friend, insisted company.

"It's for Idris' own benefit-"

"I have ideas, Alexander. So many different ideas that I believe will do more than bind the East and West. Ideas that don't involve anything in the least about me, a betrothal, or Princess Coraline," Jonathon said frustratedly.

"You are not duke," Alec laughed. "Not even the Grand Duke has said power. You need an ally from the west if you are to accomplish the tasks."

"Then why must I marry? Why can I not simply sign a compliance with a duke of the West?"

Alec studied Jace with sympathy and understanding. "Take my word on it, Jonathon. Once you get to know Caroline, you will find her satisfactory. She'll make an acceptable wife."

Jace shook his head, but said no more. The two walked in silence to the mansion's courtyard for a while, approaching, trying not to make worse of what already weighed down on Jace's shoulders. As the only son of the only Grand Duke in Eastern Idris, he is most worthy of joining together the two countries, willing to finally unite after centuries of quarrels. After so many years, they choose the Lightwood era, when his father was in reign.

"Coraline Penhallow," Jace said.

Alec glanced over at his friend. "What about it?"

Jace made a face and shook his head. "That's exactly my point. Nothing. There's nothing intriguing about it."

"She is your future wife," Alec said, shrugging.

As if remembering something, Jace raised an eyebrow and studied his face. "Why don't you marry her, Alexander?"

Alec laughed sharply. "You are to marry her, not I, brother."

It is quiet for a while as they accumulate this statement. Jace looks over at Alec, walking loyally beside him, as always. He has always been there for him, to train him, to teach him, or simply to talk to. They were born within the same year; the duke, his father, assigned Alec to him as was convenient. Ever since then, he acted as Jace's playmate, all the way up to a teacher. To Jace, Alec never really was his personal servant. As he watches him now, the least Jace could do now is break the obvious tension between them.

He wrapped a sturdy arm around his friend's neck and brought it to his chest in a headlock. Alec, who was caught off guard, cried out and swung his arm around for Jace's head. Ready, Jace dodged the blow and ruffled Alec's neatly-made hair just to agitate him. But when Alec began to shake, Jace, fearful that he had angered his old friend, loosened his hold dubiously and looked around at his face to make sure.

Alec was laughing.

Too late, Jace was not able to reciprocate. He was rammed into a nearby wall, where Alec was able to twist himself free and return the favor by snaking his arm around Jace's neck and dragging a laughing Prince back to the mansion.

**Liked it? Loved it? Please leave a comment! I'm writing both the second chapter for this, the next chapter for City of Secrets, and the first chapter for City of Fallen Angels! So keep a look-out(:**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey, guys! Nothing to say. Here's chapter two(:**

_._

_Grand Prince Jonathon Christopher Morgenstern: Son of Archduke and Grand Duchess Morgenstern;_

_Alicante, Idris (Easternmost); Palatia Gard;_

_*Laxus . . . (Later)_

_._

Jace gritted his teeth and held in a pained yelp for what seemed like the twentieth time that hour. He watched as his new student seamstress attacked the suit sleeve again, scissors in between her teeth, a needle and thread in her right hand, and a measuring tape around her neck. The girl, about sixteen, possessed the same speed and agility as her brother, and shared their raven black hair and brooding good looks.

Her harried movements were just like all the other servants, preparing for what was to occur this night. He was reminded of what his mother had told him.

"Oh, thank God, Alexander! You found him!" The boys quickly disentangled themselves from their game and met the Duchess with bowed heads. She ignored their non-replies, and pulled Jace away. "Where the Heavens have you gone to, Jonathon? We're ten minutes behind because your father's set the whole staff upon you!"

As he was escorted back to his room, he noticed every servant he passed shoot him a scowl and return to their dusting, washing, or attention to the work to be done in the dining hall below.

His mother pushed him into his dressing room, and spoke to the seamstress in a language he should have been studying, but instead snuck out to train with Alec. The seamstress replied in the same language.

"One of Mrs. Gabriel's new student seamstresses will work on your suit. She trusts her to do a good job, and will supervise her the whole way. I will leave you for now, Jonathon, but I will return to check up on how well our protege is doing." And she left, without so much as a good-bye, or wave, and Jonathon was left alone with Mrs. Gabriel and two other women.

The student seamstress stabbed him with the needle again and a cry of pain escaped his mouth. He's had enough, of everything, and he showed it by pulling down his sleeve, and holding out a hand in protest.

"I am so sorry, my Prince! It will not happen again!" the student, Isabelle, said.

"Yes, I am sure that you won't," Jace walked away. "But I believe I have shed enough drops of precious blood for today. The suit is finished."

The staff seemed to go into an act of panic. Even the senior seamstress, who acted as if she has done an act of sin, spoke up against Jonathon.

"Please," she said with imperfect English. "Suit is not decent yet."

He waved her away. "You may inform my mother that it was of my calling, and you will be given the full requested payment." Jace watched as they reluctantly packed away their materials, shaking their heads at the suit in dissatisfaction. "I'll see you and your brother at the ball to-morrow night, Isabelle."

Isabelle met eyes with Jace for a moment, surprised. Slowly, she smiled, nodded, and briskly departed with her things.

The two other women left, leaving Jace to stare at his reflection in the three-way mirror. The seamstress was right: the suit was not finished, and was a slight too wide around the hips, the sleeves ran halfway down his palms, half-a-palm longer than what was decent, and there was too much fabric about the shoulders. Other than that, the suit was perfect, as if it was made to compliment his better features.

Jace stood there for a long time, contemplating on what was to take place that night. His mother was the only Grand Duchess of Idris, but known as Grand Duchess Celine Morgenstern, wife of the Grand Duke Stephen Morgenstern of Alicante, or Eastern Idris. The Grand Duke, to Jace, however, was paternal.

The Morgenstern ancestry has reigned for centuries, and there will be great devastation if the youngest generation happened to resign his position. No one had any idea, however, that this was very unfortunate for the young and handsome Prince of Alicante. Jace had wanted to stead in America undercover for local demons ever since he'd learned Alec was to do the same.

But he had no siblings, and no closely-related cousins to take over if he relieved his role. Idris is at its most desperate times, Shadowhunters at war with each other. Dead bodies are discovered inside dark alleyways. Every day, things get worse, the people ask for impossible terms, or permission to divide East and West so they were their own individual countries. His father and he both knew once that happened, the two so-called countries would immediately be at war. It would be the perfect excuse for free and legal bloodshed, untouched revenge. The Grand Duke of Alicante refused to see his kingdom crumble.

And so his responsibilities are great, one of them being to choose a wife before his initiation ceremony. He had not expected to have to pick so soon, and it turned out, he didn't have to, seeing that his spouse was already chosen for him.

Lady Coraline-Aline-Penhallow. The eldest daughter in the wealthiest aristocratic family in Western Idris. Also rumored to be the perfect figure of the famous "Western Beauties". People thought maybe it was something in their water, or the clean air in the West that somehow affected the beauty of all the females born in that area. But it was always agreed the "Western Beauties" made great wives.

Jace wondered how well he would present himself to the Penhallow family, and if he would follow every one of his mother's strict and inescapable requisites. All the manners and formalities his mother taught him swirled around in his head, and he was sure he'd forget most of them. All he knew is that he would not be himself at the dinner table tonight.

Suddenly, there was the sound of horse hooves and carriage wheels against pavement down below. Jace approached the open window, careful not to make himself visible until tonight. Below, Jace saw finely-bred manes pulling along a silver-and-white carriage to the mansion's front door, where two servants and two footmen waited. The carriage slowed to a stop, and one of the footmen rushed forward to open the door for the ladies inside.

The first lady was tall, lean, and looked very friendly. Her choice of wardrobe was simple and clean-cut, and she looked to be in her mid-thirties. The second who stepped out was younger, younger than Jace. She studied the mansion with deep interest. It was when Jace saw her face that he realized she was gorgeous. With her soft features, long locks of dark hair, and looking at her, she emanated a mixture of danger and innocence, she could charm any male teenage Shadowhunter she desired.

The carriage door closed, and the servants quickly brought their suitcases and belongings inside. Jace retreated back inside his room, eyes on the sky. Evening.

The Penhallows have arrived.

* * *

_._

_Princess Clarissa Fairchild: Daughter of the Duke and Duchess Fairchild;_

_Westernmost Idris; Palatia Covenant;_

_*Per vicis . . ._

.

Clary fought the scream she knew was lodged in her throat. Hester wrenched at the knots for the corset, cutting off Clary's air supply. Clary wished desperately for an interruption, and excuse to leave. Her handmaid had been mumbling to herself angrily ever since Clary threatened her, and was most likely taking her irritation out on Clary's corset.

"Hester," Clary choked out. "The corset is tight enough."

"M'lady, have you been smuggling goods from the kitchens at nigh'? You seem to have gotten bigger!" Hester replied, obviously enjoying herself. She yanked on the strings again, and Clary doubled over, tightening her grip on the edge of her makeup table.

"Mrs. Beautoyen!"

Clary looked up, realizing that it wasn't she who had spoken. Her mom, the duchess of Western Idris, stood at her room's threshold, looking at Hester with scolding eyes.

"What do you think you are doing with my daughter?"

"Mistress," Hester stuttered. "Yer daugh'er-.-'er dress-fittin'-.-the young'n's dress's arrived . . . . "

Her mother wouldn't accept it. "The kitchen maids request for you downstairs, Mrs. Beautoyen. I suggest you remove yourself from my daughter's room before I have you banished from these grounds, without so much as a single payment."

Hester nodded and headed toward the door, avoiding the duchess' eyes, but tripping over the hem of her skirt. Clary fumbled with the strings of her corset, glad that her mother had come, who watched her daughter still dressed in her undergarments, her hair twisted around in a mass of red curls. with nothing to hold it up but a small hairband. The duchess strolled over and assisted her daughter with her corset.

The corset loosened to the point Clary can breathe again, and to the point of comfort. She watched her mother through her dresser mirror in silence. Her mother didn't look up, but worked on Clary's corset. Clary picked up her hair brush and ran it through her curls, taming it as best she could.

Finally, her mother spoke up first. "Is that your gown?"

Clary turned her head toward where her mother had nodded. A silverish-white gown lay flat across her bed. When the dress had first come, Clary had admired it too much, and wanted to fit it as soon as possible. The measurements were exact and the dress had to have fit her perfectly. She was to wear it to a black-and-white dress engagement ball tomorrow night.

"Yes."

"It's beautiful. It will go perfectly with your red hair," her mother complimented. That's what Clary had thought when she first saw the dress. She hoped she would not stand out, though.

"What are you wearing to the ball?" Clary asked softly.

Her mother shot her a hint of a smile. "Just a simple white gown, I'm afraid. I'm too old to wear anything any more glamorous."

"You're always beautiful, Mother." It was true. Even if the duchess would wear the simplest gown at a party, she would stand out more than any other guest. All the men would stare back at the beautiful figure with glimmering red-gold hair, the women would glare jealously. Her mother was very popular, and Clary was ashamed to have to stand by her with her average beauty.

"And so are you, Clarissa," the duchess said, placing a loose strand of Clary's hair behind her ear. "I wouldn't be surprised if four and twenty men court you tomorrow night. Your dance card would likely be full, you would have to dance with two gentleman at a time!" her mother exclaimed, laughing. A laugh that rang out in merry bells, throughout her room, and outside in the hall.

But silence followed immediately after. There was only one thing on Clarissa's mind, and it was the reason for the awkwardness between them.

"Is Father coming?"

Her mother stopped working on her corset for a moment, searching her daughter's eyes. "No, Clarissa, I'm sorry, he's not."

Clary nodded, and watched her knees since then, not once looking up. Not when her mother had something to her she hadn't heard, and didn't bother to answer, not when her mother stood up to leave, not even when the sound of clattering hooves came from outside her window. It was only when one of the younger servants that worked downstairs came to her room and made an announcement.

"Sir Simon Lewis from Adair, Lady Clarissa," she said shyly, and the reason why was clear in a moment, when Clary jumped up from her chair, startling the young maid, and dashed to her window.

She saw it then, Simon's brown and white mane, being led to the stables by the young stable boy. Clary quickly put on her nightwear and rushed out the door, causing the maid to stumble backward. "Lady Clarissa!" she called out. "Your undergarments!"

"Thank you, Samantha!" Clary called out, not hearing her.

She knew the mansion well, it was not that big. It was here that she first learned to walk, it was among these grounds that she first learned to ride a horse, and among these walls that she first learned to draw, and it was then when she found all its secret passages and shortcuts. It was why Clary had gotten downstairs in less than five minutes. Clary grinned when she saw Simon, looking handsome in his riding uniform.

"Simon!" Clary rushed forward as Simon turned toward her. He smiled, and, taking in Clary's appearance, blushed. Clary ignored it and wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight hug. He hugged her back, but lightly, as if he was scared she might snap in two if he did it any tighter. When she pulled away, Simon struggled with keeping his eyes on hers.

Simon cleared his throat. "Clarissa, your-er-your gown," he said, blushing harder.

Clary looked down at what she had on, and felt herself blush. She had been in such a hurry. "This is all I had to put on," she explained, noticing now that the maids and butlers turned their heads away, both embarrassed and ashamed. "The only other gown I had was the gown I intend to wear to the ball to-morrow night."

"Oh, so you have got it?" Simon politely asked.

"Yes!" Clary exclaimed. "Would you like to see it on me? As my escort, you have need to know what I shall look, so there is no surprise."

Simon nodded. "That's a good idea," he said. "The sooner you put something more decent on, the sooner I can see the way you look."

Clary laughed, and led him quickly to her room upstairs.

**Do you like it guys? R&R! And for those who are wondering, Clary and Jace will meet in the next chapter. So tell me what you think, and I'll post the third chapter up in no time(:**


	3. AN: Not-so-goodbye!

**Hey, guys, I'm just gonna say that this author's note is just closure for me. I was really popular on this site and I feel horrible every time I think back to the unfinished stories I put up here. I loved writing these play-offs, and-who knows-maybe in the future I can finish them.**

**It's just that now, three years later, I have moved on to bigger and better things. I'm still writing, but it's on a site called . I'm trying to publish my own story called "Teach Me to Love Again" about a girl named Anabelle Worth who is broken and hurt to the extent where she doesn't believe in love anymore. A boy named Will Connors tries to win over her affection because of a ****_dare_****, but instead does something far more for her by forcing her out of her comfort zone. In the meantime, he also has a secret he keeps from everyone. It's a story between two heartbroken teenagers who find healing in each other.**

**If you're interested in something like that, or want to keep reading more of my works, feel free to look for it under the author, "tellx3jenz."**

**Again, I'm really sorry. I loved writing for you guys, and I can continue to do so on Wattpad.**

**Not-so-goodbye!**


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